The Stray
by HaloFin17
Summary: An unexpected visitor follows Bobby home shortly after Evelyn’s death. Can the brothers learn to be as warm and welcoming as their mother always was? Mostly fluff, centered around Jack and Bobby. Rated for some language. NO slash.
1. Little Monster

**Summary:** An unexpected visitor follows Bobby home shortly after Evelyn's death. Can the brothers learn to be as warm and welcoming as their mother always was? Mostly fluff, centered around Jack and Bobby. NO slash.

**Disclaimer: **I may love 'em to death, but I don't own any of the Mercers, and I never will. Dang, life really isn't fair, is it?

**Author's Note: **Well, I can't begin this story without a shout-out to **Torilei **who has continually insisted that I need to write more fun and fluffy Four Brothers fics and has already helped me with some ideas for this one. This one's for you, Tori-kins, you're awesome! So now, everybody please enjoy, and feel free to review!

**Chapter 1: Little Monster**

The distinct 'click' of the front door being opened echoed throughout the living room, and Jack Mercer looked up from strumming his beloved guitar at the sound. The door swung shut again.

"There!" an unmistakable booming voice reached his ears. "Ya happy now?"

Not knowing whether his oldest brother was addressing him or not, Jack still could not resist answering, "Well, I was, Bobby, but now you're home."

"Shut up, Jack, I wasn't talking to you!" Bobby immediately shot back, still in the doorway beyond his youngest brother's line of sight. "Why do you always have to be such a smart-ass?"

"I learned from the best, Bobby," Jack responded with a stifled laugh, for no statement could have better proven the older man's point.

Bobby likewise caught the humor, but he only sighed despairingly. "And there ya go again. You're hopeless, Jackie, ya know that?"

"Yeah, I know." The lean nineteen-year-old still smiled at his brother's habitual teasing, but his subdued reply suggested that this latest jest might have struck just a little too close to the truth for comfort. Sometimes he really did feel hopeless, a feeling that was hardly aided by their mother's recent passing.

Finding his eyes brimming again with unbidden tears, the youngest Mercer decided to change the subject. "So who _are_ you talking to then?" he asked, glad his eldest sibling couldn't see him brush away the hot drops of saltwater from his stormy blue eyes.

"I'm talking to this…this…_thing_!" Bobby continued on his verbal rampage, wholly unperturbed and unaware of any emotional turmoil his kid brother might be experiencing. But God only knew how Bobby was going through the exact same torment, night after night.

"This damn…_creature _won't leave me alone!" And Bobby Mercer, the legendary 'Michigan Mauler', finally made his grand entrance into the living room, eyes alight in all their righteous fury.

Jack frowned as he placidly observed yet another of Bobby's tantrums, still completely clueless as to what had so upset his oldest brother, but the enigma was soon explained when the younger Mercer glanced down. Bobby had stormed right past where Jack sat on the couch with his guitar, opting instead to blaze an angry trail into the kitchen. And there tripping right at his heels was a tawny alley cat.

Jack couldn't help but burst out laughing at the sight, and he immediately got up to follow the mismatched pair into the kitchen. Few things in life were worth parting with his guitar over, but this was bound to be one of them. He entered the kitchen to find Bobby glaring daggers down at the intruding feline, while the cat merely looked back up at him expectantly with wide, hungry green eyes.

"Oh look, Bobby, you've made a friend," Jack teased his sibling with a mischievous grin, still chuckling even though he knew it would only irritate Bobby further. Or was it perhaps that he still chuckled _because _it would only irritate Bobby further?

Bobby redirected his daggers to Jack's face. "This is _not _my friend! I hate cats, Jackie, you know that."

"Well, why'd you let him in then?" Jack pressed, enjoying every moment of seeing his brother lose his head over nothing more than a stray cat.

"I didn't want to!" Bobby protested. "He followed me all the way home from the drugstore, even came up right behind me when I was about to open the door."

The tall blonde crouched down beside the small cat and began to scratch its head, hearing a rewarding purr as the feline leaned into his hand.

"So he forced his way in, then, is that it?"

"Exactly," Bobby answered succinctly and leaned back against the counter as he watched his brother now run his hand down the cat's striped back.

Jack grinned wickedly. "And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he's cute, cold, and starving, and you just happened to take pity on something for once in your life?"

"Absolutely not," the older man answered sharply with a swift yet playful cuff at his sibling's blonde head. "Yeah, he's hungry all right, Sweetheart, and you'd better watch out before he bites your hand off."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Leave it alone, Bobby, he's not vicious."

"Easy for you to say now, Princess, but just wait 'til he claws up your pretty face. _Then _I wanna hear you tell me he's not vicious."

"He's _not_, Bobby. And come on, even you have to admit he's kinda cute."

_"Cute?"_ Bobby echoed in sheer disgust. "Real men don't use the word 'cute', ya Fairy. And even if we did, it wouldn't be in reference to that little monster."

He thrust his finger out in the cat's general direction to better prove his point, and Jack sighed with a deliberate shake of his head.

"Bobby, if I'm hopeless, then _you're_ impossible!"

The older Mercer only shrugged, for they both knew there was plenty of truth buried within that particular statement, as well.

"So are you gonna feed him, or what?" Jack finally asked impatiently.

Bobby threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know what the hell you're supposed to feed a cat," he exclaimed, obviously flustered. "Wanna sacrifice your ear, Sweetheart? I'm sure he'd love chewing on that!"

"Ever heard of milk, Bobby? Ya know, that white stuff that comes out of cows?"

If looks could maim, the blonde tips of Jack's spiked hair would surely have been singed by the fiery glare Bobby leveled in his little brother's direction.

"Fine, Smart-ass, I'll give him some milk. Though I still think your ear would be tastier." Bobby reached up to retrieve a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with milk from the fridge.

"Here, ya little monster," he growled, "drink up."

The cat padded over to the bowl at Bobby's feet and began drinking with a relish. It soon finished and looked back up at him, still greedily licking its lips.

"You want more?" the oldest Mercer stated in disbelief. "Fine, but this time, I'm gonna spike it with some Vodka – just to see what happens."

"Bobby, wait!" Jack interrupted him from across the kitchen. "Don't waste booze on the cat – Angel'll kill you when he gets back from Sofi's. Besides, this'll be better for him, anyway."

Only then did Bobby notice the can-opener in his brother's hand. "What're you giving him?" he inquired, frowning.

"Tuna," was Jack's simple answer as he spooned the fishy contents into the cat's now empty bowl. The feline immediately inhaled his new food and was halfway done before Jack had even finished emptying the can.

"Tuna?" Bobby groaned in dismay. "Jack, I was gonna eat that, you idiot!"

The blonde shrugged, wholly unsympathetic. "Too bad, Bobby, I guess you'll have to find something else. Why don't you have something healthy? Like an apple."

"Healthy?" Bobby scoffed. "And this is coming from someone who smokes two packs a day?"

"Hey, I only smoke half a pack, at most," Jack protested. "Stop trying to be Mom, already."

The bickering abruptly died then, and the only sound that could be heard throughout the kitchen was the scraping of the cat's rough pink tongue as it licked up every possible molecule of tuna from the bowl.

"So," Bobby offered after a pained moment of awkward silence, "what're you makin' for dinner?"

Jack frowned. "What makes you think I'm cooking?"

"You always cook, ya little Fairy."

"Yeah, but what makes you think I'd cook anything for _you_?"

Bobby grinned and reached up to playfully ruffle his sibling's mess of hair. "Cuz I'm your brother, and you love me, Jackie, that's why."

Jack angrily pushed his brother's hand away. "Shut up, Bobby! Believe me, the only one who loves you right now is that cat."

Both brothers looked down then, and sure enough, the tawny feline was sitting dutifully at Bobby's feet, gazing up at him with adoring emerald eyes.

"Hmph," Bobby grunted after finally losing to the cat in a tense staring contest. He turned back to his brother. "So what _are _you makin'?"

"I was thinking of just frying up some hamburgers," Jack divulged at last.

Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. "I knew you'd come through, Cracker Jack. Let me know when they're ready!" And with that, he left the kitchen and flopped down on the couch in front of the TV.

"Bastard!" Jack called indignantly after him, but he couldn't help noticing with a sly grin that the cat had eagerly followed Bobby's every move out of the room and was now up on the couch with him.

"Hey, what do you want from me?" Bobby exclaimed hotly when the cat started crawling onto his lap, and he tried vehemently to push the offending feline away. But it kept coming back to him, approaching from all different angles until it finally caught its favored human off guard by descending from the top of the couch and flopping limply on the vexed man's lap.

"Aw, he loves you, Bobby," Jack teased from the kitchen while he began to flatten the raw hamburger meat into patties.

"I don't know why, cuz I sure as hell don't love him!" He looked down at the furry form on his lap. "What am I supposed to do with this, Jackie?"

"Pet him, I guess. You're his favorite, after all."

Bobby sighed, exasperated, and lifted up the cat with two hands, holding it at arms' length away from his face.

"Now listen, you," he began, carefully emphasizing every word. "I don't want you. Understand that? I do not want you!"

But the cat only stared back at him, its head tilted slightly to one side while its ears twitched back and forth.

"You hear me?" Bobby asked again, giving the creature a little shake for good measure. "I don't want you. Now, scat!" He set the nimble feline none too gently down on the floor and shooed it away with his toe. "Go watch Martha Stewart cook, maybe he'll give ya some more tuna."

"No, I think that was the last can," Jack's voice came from the kitchen.

"Figures," Bobby muttered and switched the channel. Too bad he couldn't find any hockey on this time of day – only boring baseball. But before long, the tantalizing smell of browning meat drifted into the living room, and Bobby's stomach grumbled loudly.

"You about done in there yet, Cracker Jack?" he called.

"Yeah, they're ready," Jack answered, and Bobby jumped up from the couch and hurried into the kitchen.

Jack watched his brother eagerly scoop a hamburger up onto his plate and snorted softly.

"Ya know, you really shouldn't give that cat such a hard time, Bobby," he said. "You're just as desperate for food as he is."

"Shut yer mouth, Fairy, I don't wanna hear it," Bobby scolded him, turning away from his food a moment in order to better access the refrigerator and the hidden wealth of condiments there within. But by the time he turned around, ketchup and pickle jar in hand, his plate was empty.

Meanwhile, behind him, Jack finally unleashed the hysterical laughter that he had been struggling almost violently to contain.

"I think he got a little more than some tuna, Bobby," the youngest Mercer managed to say around his gasping breaths of laughter.

Bobby Mercer glared balefully down at the lean creature that sat on the floor beneath him, licking its lips contentedly yet returning his stare with the most innocent round eyes. And when Bobby Mercer had been robbed of his dinner, there was only one thing to be said.

"Damn little monster!"

**Author's End Note: **Don't worry, this isn't the end. I've got one or two more chapters for this story, however long it takes for me to get everything in. But I hope you like it so far, talk to you all later!


	2. Jackie Jr

**Summary: **An unexpected visitor follows Bobby home shortly after Evelyn's death. Can the brothers learn to be as warm and welcoming as their mother always was? Mostly fluff, centered around Jack and Bobby. NO slash.

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I don't own any of the Mercer boys. I don't even own the "Little Monster"! And on that note, I find it only fair to mention that the cat in this fic was inspired by my dear friend Samantha's cat, **Lucy**. She's a crazy kitty, but she sure is adorable!

**Author's Note: **Many, many thanks to all you wonderful readers who took the time to review, you made my day! Hugs to all of you! And I especially hope that those of you who enjoyed my first fluffy FB fic, "Sick Little Fairy," several months back are also finding this one equally entertaining! Kudos once again to **Tori** for helping me come up with some fun ideas to work into this story and torture Bobby with, lol. And a very special shout-out to **Greywolf Lupous** for coining the "Kitty Kong" phrase which I adore to no end! And if any of you have not yet checked out her story "Best Laid Plans", I highly recommend it. It's fantastic!

**Chapter 2: Jackie Jr.**

Angel Mercer opened the door to his mother's house late that evening and walked in to find his oldest and youngest brother sitting together on the couch, engrossed in a hockey game, as per the usual. Jack was idly strumming his precious guitar, while Bobby sat with a beer bottle in his hand and an unusually sour expression on his face.

"Hey, y'all," Angel called, walking over to them. He examined Bobby's face a bit more closely and frowned. "So what's got you all pissed off, Mr. High and Mighty Mercer?"

"Bobby's made a new friend," Jack spoke up, a cunning grin creeping across his youthful features.

Angel immediately grinned right along with his younger brother and took the cue with impeccable timing. "Oh? What's her name, Bobby?"

Jack leaned forward, eagerly anticipating his brother's response to his next statement. "It's not a 'her,' Angel."

The battle-hardened Marine balked and took a physical step backward, seriously looking as though he'd just taken a bullet in the chest. "What? Bobby, I thought Jackie-poo here was the fairy of the family."

"He is, Angel, you know that!" Bobby cut in sharply. "Now leave it alone, man, I'm in no mood for this shit."

Angel held up his hands and decided to back off, for he was all too familiar with that impatient glint in the older man's eye. Bobby was reminiscent of a peeved rattlesnake, coiled up and ready to strike at the first moving object that presented itself.

"Hey, I'm just messin' with ya, Bobby, you know that." He shook his head. "But just look at you two white boys, sittin' your lazy asses on the couch all night. I oughta knock your heads together."

Bobby just took another swig of his beer. "You go ahead and try it, Little Brother."

"But Bobby did make a new friend today," Jack insisted, "and if you aren't careful, Angel, you'll sit on him."

"Huh?" Angel glanced down at where he was about to sit beside Bobby on the couch, and only then did he notice the furry stranger in their midst, curled up cozily next to the oldest Mercer.

"Hey, it's a cat!" he exclaimed, a genuine smile breaking over his face.

"Wow, Angel, I'm so glad you graduated preschool," Bobby drawled from where he sat. "Of course, that must be as far as you ever got academically, especially if you like this…thing."

"What're you talkin' about, man? Cats are cool!" Angel scooped up the lean feline and took his place next to Bobby while laying the still drowsy animal across his lap.

"Of course, they ain't as tough as a Rottweiler or a Pitt Bull or anything like that, but they're just cool, ya know," he went on, gently scratching the creature's small head. "Sofi loves cats."

"And there's yet another reason to hate them."

"Hey, lay off, Bobby! Please don't start this again, all right? Not now."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Fine, ya big ladies' man."

"Thank you," Angel replied with exaggerated politeness. He then turned his attention back to the purring feline in his lap. "So, does he have a name?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered without skipping a beat. "His name is Little Monster – Little Milk-Drinking, Tuna-Eating, Hamburger-Stealing _Monster_!"

"You're cruel, Bobby." Angel looked back down at the cat and rubbed it behind the ears. "Don't you listen to mean old Bobby, ok, kitty? He's just a grouchy old man, you don't have to worry about him."

"Yeah right," Jack interrupted him. "Too bad Bobby's his favorite."

"Really?" Angel asked with an incredulous arch of his left eyebrow.

And almost as if on cue, the cat suddenly got up from the lap that welcomed it and tried to crawl back next to Bobby.

Jack laughed. "See what I mean? It's been like this all day. This cat won't leave him alone, it's hilarious!"

"Thanks a lot for the concern, Jackie-boy," Bobby growled as the irritant of a feline nudged his hand in a vain attempt to be petted. "What do you want?" he then roared at the cat. He lifted his hand to get it out of the creature's path, but the cat only started to rub up against it, arching its back and purring contentedly.

Finally unable to endure it any longer, the fabled hockey player shoved the animal aside and stood up from the couch. "All right, I've enough of this damn pest! I'm going to bed." And with that, he stomped upstairs.

But upon seeing his beloved human depart, the tawny cat at once leapt down from the sofa and frolicked after Bobby, nearly tripping him twice as it darted back and forth from under his feet on the steps. The eldest Mercer's constant stream of obscenities gradually grew more distant until it finally ended in the distinct slamming of a door.

Jack and Angel exchanged amused looks, and as soon as their eyes met, they both burst out laughing.

"Man, I haven't seen Bobby this worked up in a long time!" Angel exclaimed, wiping away a tear of laughter.

Jack then got up and tugged at his brother's sleeve. "C'mon, let's go see what that cat's doin' now."

They tiptoed upstairs as quietly as possible, struggling not to laugh along the way. When they reached the top of the stairs, they saw the lonely cat sitting outside their mother's bedroom, staring dejectedly at the closed door and meowing loudly. Naturally, Bobby ignored it.

Jack looked over at Angel, a wicked grin playing across his face. "Should we?"

"Yeah," Angel affirmed with a nod, "but he probably ain't asleep yet. Let's wait a while."

About half an hour later, the two brothers silently opened Bobby's door a crack, and the gangly feline immediately slipped inside. Angel then closed the door with a soft click, and he and Jack retreated back toward the top of the stairway, ready to bolt if Bobby exploded. They looked expectantly at each other, the silence tense. And suddenly, there came the eruption.

"STUPID FREAKIN' CAT!"

The bedroom door was flung open then, and the offending feline came bolting out of the room like a streak of lightning. Bobby was right behind it, coughing and sputtering, an unsurprising look of murder in his wild eyes. But the target of his wrath was instantly changed as soon as he espied his brothers.

"I'm gonna kill you guys!"

Jack and Angel needed no additional motivation, for they were already flying down the stairs as though running for their lives, yet they still laughed hysterically every step of the way.

"You two bastards are so dead!" Bobby ranted as he continued his pursuit. "That damn animal was sleeping on my _face_! Now I've got cat hair in my mouth, and I'm gonna be coughin' up fur balls for a freakin' month!"

The oldest Mercer may not have been able to apprehend both his younger brothers on his own, but upon hearing that last statement, both Jack and Angel began laughing so hard they could barely run. Bobby caught them both in turn and proceeded to inflict pain in the cruelest big-brotherly ways he knew of, which was quite a formidable arsenal considering his many years of practice. But despite the treatment, Jack and Angel later agreed that the prank had been well worth any discomfort their elder sibling may have administered, no matter how severe.

Several angst-filled minutes later, Bobby retreated back to the sanctuary of his mother's bedroom, this time locking the door securely behind him while muttering something to himself about lighting his two little brothers' beds on fire later that night. He reached down in the dark to straighten his pillow before climbing back into bed, when he was suddenly startled by two glowing circles looking up at him.

Bobby jerked his hand back as though he'd heard a rattlesnake in his bed and ended up tripping over his own feet in a desperate frenzy to reach the nearest lamp. He flicked it on, and lying there most contentedly in his bed, was the furry intruder.

"Damn cat!" the Michigan Mauler exclaimed, clutching at his chest and breathing hard. "What're you tryin' to do, give me a heart attack or something?"

The cat sat up on the bed then and stared up at its favorite Mercer with wide, adoring green eyes. Its tail twitched, and it cocked its head, curiously regarding the rather irritable human being before it.

Bobby planted his fists on his hips, determined to remain undaunted in his spiteful sentiments. "Stop it! Don't look at me like that! What is this, ya little monster? You're some dinner-stealing demon one minute, and a big-eyed, innocent angel the next? Keep the schizophrenia to a minimum, will ya?"

But the cat's eyes only seemed to grow bigger, rounder, and more endearing.

"Oh no," Bobby warned the tawny feline, "don't try givin' me that cute crap! I know how that goes, and it's never worked on me."

But that was a lie, and he knew it all too well. For years, he had thought himself immune to the "cute crap," but that masculine fantasy had been shattered the moment Jack first walked in the door of Evelyn's home. Even Bobby had been helpless to resist those big, frightened blue eyes and the mop of disheveled blonde hair. Lord knows, that kid may not have been trying to get past his defenses, but Jack had inevitably succeeded in working his way into the softest spot of his oldest brother's Detroit-hardened heart.

And now, as he looked down at this pathetic excuse for a cat, Bobby saw the same helpless dependence, the same loneliness that he'd first seen in Jack all those years ago. He knew the fight was over then, and he had lost horribly. Since when had he become such a pussy boy? That was Cracker Jack's job!

"All right, fine," he at last admitted, although grudgingly so as not to make the cat think it had won too easily. "You can stay – but if I catch you sleeping on my mouth again, you'll be dog food for sure! Either that, or we'll find out what burnt cat hair smells like."

That seemed agreeable enough to the small creature, for it happily flopped back down on the bed and waited for Bobby to join it. The eldest Mercer grumbled under his breath and finally climbed back into bed, pleasantly surprised when the cat nimbly climbed over his body and curled up in a tight ball beside him. Bobby sighed, defeated, and conceded to scratching the feline between the ears. The cat's purrs rattled soothingly against his chest until they both fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

"Ya know," Bobby Mercer posed to his brothers the following morning, "this little monster ain't so bad, after all."

Jack and Angel watched wide-eyed in morbid fascination as the fearless leader of their family sat at the head of the kitchen table, cat happily situated upon his lap, and fed the "little monster" bits and pieces of waffles from his own plate.

Angel swallowed thickly around a dry mouth and asked in a hollow voice, "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother Bobby?"

Bobby just shrugged. "I guess he grew on me, after I'd hated him long enough."

"Don't you think you should rename him, then?" Jack suggested, his stunned stomach finally returning to life so that at least a cup of coffee sounded appetizing. Coffee, with a generous addition of Kahlua.

"Good idea, Princess," Bobby answered, then eyed his youngest brother mischievously for a moment. "And I think I'll call him 'Jackie Jr.' Ya know, cuz he's got the same light hair and big eyes like you do, Sweetheart. He's scrawny like you, too, but with any luck, _he_ can at least grow out of it."

Jack promptly reached over and smacked his sibling on the back of the head, utilizing the very technique Bobby had taught him several years ago and retorted, "At least he doesn't have a little brother who's a full head taller than him."

Angel laughed. "You'd better watch out, Jack. It looks like you've been replaced as the new baby of the family."

"Nah, that'll never happen," a grinning Bobby put in dismissively as he gave his new feline friend an exceptionally syrup-drenched piece of waffle. "Not even Junior here is that helpless. But I can't help it if I really am this Jackie's favorite."

He winked at Jack then, and the younger Mercer only shook his head with a miserably concealed grin. They may never have intended it to be so, but they both knew that Jack had always held a special place as Bobby's favored little brother, and vice versa. It had been inevitable from the start. Jack needed someone to protect him, and Bobby needed someone to protect. How little did they know that in only two days' time, that delicate symbiosis would be forever shattered.

* * *

Two days later, Bobby Mercer stared stone-faced down at his brother's grave, the dark casket a stark contrast against the pristine snow. The funeral had been so different from their mother's. Very few people had come, and now only he, Jerry, and Angel remained. But it was time to go now. Time to go and honor his little brother in the only way familiar to the Mercers – vengeance.

"You comin', Bobby?"

The softly posed question came from behind him, and Bobby shook his head before quietly answering.

"No, you guys go on ahead, Jer. I'll catch up in a few minutes."

"Okay, big bro. Take as long as you need. We'll be waiting for you back home."

Jerry and Angel withdrew then, leaving Bobby alone in the cold. But that was how he wanted it. When he was certain his brothers had gone, the eldest Mercer dropped to his knees down in the snow and bowed his head over his brother's grave. The grief weighed heavily upon him, as did the guilt, and he could not hold back the tears from making their indomitable march down his face. Evelyn was dead, and so was Jack. Even though Jerry and Angel were still with him, he had never felt so alone.

Suddenly, there was a soft crunching in the snow in front of him, and Bobby raised his head. Despite his sorrow, a sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, for standing there in front of him, on the opposite side of the grave, was Jackie Jr. The tawny cat had disappeared during the shootout at the Mercer home and had not returned. Bobby could hardly blame the animal for that. And though he had been far too concerned with the real Jackie at the time to miss the cat, there was an undeniable sense of relief in knowing that this Jackie had escaped from the hellish experience alive.

Junior looked at him, green eyes as big and round as ever. Bobby was surely imagining it, but he could have sworn that there was pity in those pale orbs, almost as if the creature were asking him what was wrong.

"Don't look at me like that," Bobby whispered, not even sure if the cat could hear. "Please?"

His tone was half-commanding, half-pleading; for somehow, seeing this cat again was almost like seeing his baby brother. But he would never see Jack again, and this torment of his imagination was simply too much to endure. He bowed his head once more and clenched his eyes shut, but even then, he still saw the little fairy's face behind his eyelids. It was cruel, really; that Jack could be gone forever, but Bobby would still always see him. Always. Perhaps it was a fact he should simply embrace, rather than resist for the rest of his life.

With a weary sigh, the grieving man finally raised his head, fully prepared this time for the emotional blow of seeing his brother's gentle features reflected in the face of a stray cat. But when he looked again, the cat had vanished, and only tiny paw prints in the fresh snow betrayed that the animal had ever been there.

Jackie Jr. was gone, too.

**Author's End Note: **Hey again, everyone, but this time, I'm sad to say that this really is the end. It's not exactly how I had originally envisioned, but it's close enough. Plus, I was just kinda out of ideas, lol. So, yeah, it ends on a somewhat sadder note, but I hope you guys still liked it. Ttyl!


End file.
